


it can't fall apart, i'm hooked on you baby

by honeysparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Suspension, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Body Modification, Bottom Castiel, Hand Job, Light Angst, M/M, Praise Kink, Safewords, Spit As Lube, Top Dean, hook suspension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysparks/pseuds/honeysparks
Summary: Castiel inhales sharply, holding his breath for a moment or two. The hooks had stung mildly when they first pierced the flesh of his back, but once they were firmly fastened and pulled tight, the familiar sensation of being lifted off his feet overtook the pain.Still, he was glad they were only going for the aptly-named 'Angel' position, and not something overambitious like a 'Rocking Horse' or whatever the fuck an 'Inverse Lotus' is supposed to be.





	it can't fall apart, i'm hooked on you baby

**Author's Note:**

> title from al green's 1974 'i'm hooked on you' because i love puns, period. 
> 
> this took a painfully long time to write because i didnt know shit about hook suspension,, so i hope it's alright

"You alright?" Dean's voice, strained and gravelly, breaks the silence.

Castiel inhales sharply, holding his breath for a moment or two before nodding stiffly. The hooks had stung mildly when they first pierced the flesh of his back, but once they were firmly fastened and pulled tight, the familiar sensation of being lifted off his feet overtook the pain.

Still, he was glad they were only going for the aptly-named 'Angel' position, and not something overambitious like a 'Rocking Horse' or whatever the fuck an 'Inverse Lotus' is supposed to be.

"Colour?" Dean asks.

"Green," Castiel confirms without hesitation. "It's just- Give me a minute."

He closes his eyes, letting his hands rest at his sides and stretching his feet as far as they'll go. His breath hitches when the tip of his toes touches the ground. "Dean," he says, and it's a command and a plead all at once, "Higher."

There's a moment of silence as Dean tests the strength of the cables, calculates how much more weight they can handle before the hooks rip at Cas' flesh.

"It'll hurt."

" _Higher_ ," Cas repeats, steel in his voice.

Dean complies right away, slowly adjusting the mechanism until the ground is completely out of Castiel's reach.

There's a sharp hiss of pain that leaves his lips, and Dean definitely doesn't miss the way his hands ball into fists at his sides, but other than that, Cas is silent.

"Colour?" Dean checks again, just to be sure. He takes a step closer, places his hands on Castiel's hips.

The answer is green, but it comes a second too late for Dean's liking. He considers undoing the few inches he's just added to the height of the suspension, but then he looks at Castiel's face and understands.

Blue eyes are open, but only slightly; hooded and gazing into a space that doesn't exist. His cheeks are flushed, and a light sheen of sweat coats his face the way it does when he's trying not to make a sound. Pink, chapped lips part gently in small sighs, and Dean's gaze lingers just long enough to see his tongue dart out and wet his bottom lip.

Despite the sweat and the menacing creak of the pulleys every now and then, Castiel looks calm. Feels calm. In the silence, Dean can hear his heartbeat- a soft pumping that hasn't been steady in a while with his constant use of amphetamines.

Dean doesn't want to mess with that. It's been a long time since his boy's been so relaxed.

So, instead of asking - again - what his colour is, Dean leans over and presses a kiss to Castiel's neck. Just before Dean pulls away, his tongue darts out on impulse and licks a stripe up to just behind Cas' ear.

Cas jerks his hips up.

Dean slides a leg between Castiel's thighs, jamming it hard and purposeful at his crotch. Cas lets out a cry, and Dean's mouth waters as he watches a small wet spot appear on the front of his jeans.

"Tell me what you want," Dean murmurs.

More often than not, their sex is rough. Animalistic. Full of taking, grunting, yelling, scratching and groping at each other's skin. It hadn't always been that way, but time and circumstance made sure that every remaining vulnerability either of them had was stripped away, including any and all softness they reserved for one another.

But this time- this time Dean wants to take it as slow as he can. Wants to hear Cas whimper and plead for what he needs with tears in his pretty blue eyes.

When there's no reply, Dean slides a hand up Castiel's chest and grips the base of his throat. So, maybe they won't take things as slow as they used to. But he doubts either of them will mind.

"I said," Dean repeats, slow and deliberate, "Tell me what you want."

"Touch me," Cas groans, voice raspy.

Dean's lips twitch smugly as he undoes Castiel's jeans and yanks them down, along with his underwear. His movements are quick but gentle enough to keep from adding unnecessary stress on the suspension rigging.

Cas is already hard, cock swollen and leaking against his stomach. Dean wonders how much of it is from the hooks and how much of it is from him.

He's brought out of his thoughts as hips grind impatiently onto his thigh.

"Taking a leisurely stroll down memory lane, now, are we?" Castiel grins, and the careless smirk looks sinful splayed across his lips. He's come so far from the humourless soldier he'd been when they'd started to know each other. Dean doesn't know what the thought makes him feel; he only knows that it twists his insides into something wicked.

"Shut the fuck up," Dean barks, but there's a faint smile in his voice. His patience lasts only as long as it takes to stroke his fingers down the length of Castiel's erection before he's spitting in his fist and tugging hard at his cock.

Dean knows that if Cas could move freely, he'd be arching up into his touch and pressing the two of them together as close as they could get. He'd always been affectionate, but the amphetamines were taking it a step further, making him downright needy.

"C'mon," Cas urges impatiently. "Make me come."

Dean doesn't have to be told twice. He quickens the pace of his hand, fist closed tight around Castiel's dick. Every stroke he makes, his thumb rubs at the veiny underside of his cock, where he knows is most sensitive.

Cas makes a strained sound. He moans loudly, and the sound echoes. It takes him a moment to swallow, with Dean's hand grasping his throat, but he manages and pants for breath after. With his face flushed and his chest heaving, he's a sight to behold.

"Dean," Cas rasps, and he doesn't have to finish his sentence for Dean to know what he's trying to say. They've done this enough times.

He's close, Dean can tell from the precum leaking from the tip of his cock and the way his hips are bucking uselessly up into the air. Instead of replying, Dean tightens his hold on the sides of Castiel's neck. Cas whines, but doesn't protest. He knows what Dean is up to, so he plays along.

Dean's hand begins to slow into more deliberate movements. He grips the base of Castiel's cock and slowly pulls his hand along his length, repeating the motion a couple times. Just enough to make Cas whimper but not nearly as many times as he knows he would like.

Dean gets a couple more times in before he sees Cas' whole body tenses up and even with the hooks, he manages to get closer to Dean and shove his face into his shoulder as he comes, hands clawing at Dean's chest and gripping his jacket tightly.

In another place, at another time, perhaps Dean would've held him, too, and whispered soothing phrases in his ear about how good he was and how fucking hot it was to see him come undone that way.

But this is the reality they've been given and god help them if they weren't already making the best of things. So instead of kissing Cas like he would if he could, Dean mumbles an overused line that's supposed to be sexy and starts the process of helping him down off the hooks.


End file.
